


sleep to dream

by papyrocrat



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Blasphemy, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-12
Updated: 2012-02-12
Packaged: 2017-11-20 06:09:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/582137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/papyrocrat/pseuds/papyrocrat





	sleep to dream

His knees hum when he wakes, singed by the mocking memory of pain.

Instinct takes over, brutal and alien, and he’s shoved his shoulder through the top of his prison before he’s finished thinking, _out_.

She’s standing over him with a smile as cold as the moon.

 He doesn’t miss the sun.

**************

Angel still moans in his sleep, as if he needed air. He still needs her, to know who he is, what it is to be dead _. My darling boy. It’s your turn to give me everything_.

**************

They are not the only ghosts haunting the streets of York.

These northern towns, reeking of rotted blood and crawling with demon hunters to be swatted like flies in this wet, slimy summer. They won’t touch her, she laughs as she snaps their necks and moans as he bends over her to feed.

”This is how we live, Angelus. We hunt. But the prey need not always be carcasses.” Oh, to build another, as she has made him, to create his own art.

Darla is an artist too; she spies the lovely young couple at the theater.

It’s all very sweet, they won’t be pried from each other’s side, until Darla flatters young Elizabeth into becoming her lady-in-waiting, and James doesn’t hear the screams over the sounds of the show. (Not before Darla’d taught her a few tricks of the trade, he devoutly hoped.)

The young man makes some tiresome threats, and why wouldn’t he, left all behind in his lesser world.

And yet, vaguely interesting, and Darla would like to humor her new toy.

“They will always belong to you, Angel. Are you ready for that?”

And though the vacuum of eternity stretches before him, he is.

They no longer growl, but sing in tune. Darla pulls their screaming victim down toward her to drink; Angelus closes in over his back. Soon the body between them goes slack, though the man has the energy to flinch when Angelus rips his own arm open and shoves it in his mouth.

Darla’s hands are on both bodies, but she just wants his. The body hits the ground as he sweeps Darla into his arms and against the wall. “Well, darling, what shall we do while the children are sleeping?”

==========

Angel rolls over onto his back; leaves one arm wide open for her (always for her, this is as certain as the stars). She crawls onto him, lets him cool this tainted flesh, and pulls them both back into eternity.

=========

He’d planned for this, thought meticulously of every moment he would spend worshipping her on this alter, how she would shout _alleluia_ in praise of the work of his hands. Except, no, he can’t, the blood rips through his veins and he must have her right here, on the convent floor.

She loves this, lives to pretend she’s one of them, scandalizing them all with her naughtiness. “Darling, we’ve got company,” she tells him casually, and deigns the crying nuns with a glace.

One is brave, or maybe already crazy, she stares back at them and Angel has always believed in the trinity.

 He traps her hips to the ground, his one fixed point in the sticky red whirlpool. He sinks into her then. Their knees smoke and hiss against the holy water puddling on the ground.

+++++  


Darla traces her wet fingers down his still chest. It’s just water to her, impotent and thin, but it hisses as it brands his skin. _It won’t be long now, my love_ , she murmurs, and he moans in anticipation. _I’ve great plans  for you, my boy_.


End file.
